


McCoy's Dyslexia Saves the Goddamn Day

by Anonymous



Category: Star Trek
Genre: Dyslexia Appreciation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 02:20:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9636515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “Dyslexia is not, in fact, a disease.” McCoy bit back a smile as Spock launched into a very detailed account of what dyslexia is. He could always count on that hobgoblin to combat ignorance everywhere he went. Content his honor was being properly defended, Bones refocused on the symbols. Or, at least, he tried to. Listening to the commander’s rant was a bit too enticing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, real talk.  
> I really like star trek but I'm really not qualified to be writing this. I've only watched maybe four episode of the original series and haven't taken the time for the alternate original series yet. I've watched way more Next Gen than anything else so... woops. Most of my knowledge of Kirk, Spock, McCoy, and their crew comes from reading Spirk fanfics and listening to my younger sibling rant about the original series.  
> Speaking of said younger sibling, he's why I'm writing this. His favorite character is McCoy and part of it is because both he and McCoy are dyslexic which is great because it gives him more confidence in dealing with the shit people give him about being dyslexic. Anyway, a few days ago he read a fic that called dyslexia a disease and arbitrarily cured McCoy of it because ~future medicine is apparently going to literally be able to reverse the process of time and rearrange people's genes while in the womb to prevent the brain from developing a certain way~. Which, wow. Okay. Thanks for really throwing a wrench in my "actually let my sibling develop some goddamn self esteem because apparently everything else about society is determined to give this kid near daily panic attacks" plans. So this fic here is my equalizer.  
> Shout out to the kiddo and anyone else who needed to read something like this.

Bones grumbled while he trudged after the ensigns leading him through the dimly lit corridors. He wasn’t sure what he expected--Jim to let himself be beamed up into med bay to be treated in accordance with protocol. _Ha. Sure. Maybe when Spock decides to give bacon a try._

Spock. That was the whole problem. Jim couldn’t be beamed back on board the ship because then _Spock would be left alone with **that guy**!_ Jim had hissed the words _that guy_ so venomously into his comm that Bones had to recoil, feeling as though a glob of spit had somehow been carried through the channels to smack him in the face just like his captain’s tone.

Jim could not possibly leave Spock with the aforementioned _guy_ , because he was the _worst_ kind of guy. The _was sent by Starfleet so we need to treat them nicely but they’re literally the freaking worst and so ignorant and bossy and if we could we’d set them on fire_ kind of guy. This particular guy’s specialty seemed to be making uneducated “observations” about people based on the kind of misinformation that haunted the populace centuries ago. Perhaps the worst part, according to Kirk, was _that guy’s_ insistent fascination with Spock. Despite his cultural elitist, borderline xenophobic, opinions (which he expressed far too openly, expecting unanimous agreement from the crew), he was somewhat fixated on their half-Vulcan commander. He examined the pointed ears and perfect posture with an appreciative eye, the kind directed at art, not people. Bones reflected on Jim’s rant two days ago when he had barged into med bay with a furious frown.

_”Exotic!” Kirk declared angrily, brushing right past Leonard to continue the conversation in his office. Bones followed his captain in and watched as Kirk paced angrily around the room. “He called him exotic! Like a fucking bird!”_

_“Uh-huh,” Bones replied slowly, carefully taking his seat behind his desk._

_“Like a rug!” Jim continued. “Like a damn rug! Like he isn’t even a person, Bones!” The CMO didn’t bother replying. Kirk would fill him in soon enough. “I mean,” sure enough, the captain slowed and paused, glancing at his longtime friend. “I’m not saying Spock isn’t really damn pretty. He definitely is. It’s just… **that guy** is so gross about it.”_

_“Spock can handle himself,” Bones responded easily._

_Jim whined for a moment before he leaned against the desk and shot the CMO his most pitiful look. “Remind me when we get to drop his ass off at a base and never see him again, please?”_

_“There is no possible way you don’t already know,” the doctor said with an unimpressed sigh._

_“I am literally counting the seconds,” Jim agreed seriously. There was a brief pause. “Do you think Spock is counting the milliseconds? Should I ask?”_

It was the aforementioned _gross interest_ in Spock that caused Kirk to demand his leg injury be treated on location, down in the ruins of a civilization long past with Spock and _that guy_. By the time he made it to where the three were, it was obvious that Bones wouldn’t get to be the token grump today. Instead, it appeared everyone was going to play the irritable and frowny card. Bones might just look friendly by comparison, heaven forbid.

Jim was sitting on the ground, injured leg sprawled outward in front of him while he glared at their guest from Starfleet, Apparently their Captain had given up on maintaining the air of professionalism he usually held in the presence of outsiders like the man he was glaring at. At Jim’s side was Spock, crouched low with his eyes focused on the blood starting to seep through the black cloth. Bones doesn’t have Kirk’s claim to fame concerning reading Spock’s _non existent_ facial expressions, but even he can tell that the half-Vulcan is displeased. Meanwhile, _that guy_ was standing behind Spock, not so subtley checking out the commander’s rear every now and then before his eyes would travel around the room causing him to frown deeply at the scrawlings on the walls. All in all, Bones was probably going to really hate this. Hopefully, he could out grump them all, but only time would tell.

“Bones!” Kirk’s eyes lit up at the sight of his friend, his cry directing the attention of the two other men to the CMO.

With a sigh, McCoy settled next to Spock, silently asking for a recap of the situation. Spock immediately obliged. “In accordance with the research of Mr. Kay, the Captain and I were escorting him through the ruins. Due to his inability to interpret the language of the civilization he has been studying for 2.74 decades, he triggered a trap,”

“It is not inability to,” _that guy_ tried to interrupt but Spock continued talking over him.

“The Captain fulfilled his duties by jumping in front of the projectile and absorbing the blow, I have inspected it. There were no wells to store any toxins in. It appears to be a simplistic arrowhead.” With that the commander handed Bones a small triangle of stone covered in Kirk’s blood.

“We’ve been working on mapping the layout of the ruins, but it is slow going since our _expert_ can’t read,” Jim said with a wry grin.

“I can read just fine!” Their guest protested loudly, his face coloring when Spock turned and raised a single, unimpressed brow at him. “It isn’t possible for the human mind t interpret these symbols. They scramble and-”

Kirk and Spock snorted in unison. Bones bit back a smile at how heavily the two influenced each other. A tiny part of him wanted to officiate a wedding between the two right then and there, to the horror of _that guy_. The rest of him was still a huge grouch that wanted to roll his eyes at them though, so he went with that.

“Has Uhura tried yet?” McCoy asked after he finished working on Kirk’s leg.

Jim huffed out a dry laugh. “She’s worked herself into a frenzy because of it.”

Bones frowned before he turned his head and squinted at the symbols on the wall. “Ha,” came the haughty call from _that guy_. “It’d be a waste to even try, doctor.” His nose was tilted upwards, derision coloring his tone. “Aren’t you dyslexic? You can barely read standard. With a disease like that--”

“Actually,” Spock was suddenly standing directly in front of _that guy_ and looming over him. “Dyslexia is not, in fact, a disease.” McCoy bit back a smile as Spock launched into a very detailed account of what dyslexia _is_. He could always count on that hobgoblin to combat ignorance everywhere he went. Content his honor was being properly defended, Bones refocused on the symbols. Or, at least, he tried to. Listening to the commander’s rant was a bit too enticing. “Dyslexia is a learning disorder characterized by difficulty with reading due to problems with identifying speech sounds and learning how they relate to letters and words. Dyslexia has been linked to certain genes that influence how the brain develops and has no bearing on an individual’s vision, hearing, or intelligence. Calling dyslexia a disease would imply that the condition is harmful which would be a false assumption as it is simply the result of a slightly altered brain. As no brain is absolutely pristine, that would mean that every brain is diseased which would be illogical. If every brain is diseased, there is no control population to represent a healthy populace and, as such, there would technically not be considered a disease but rather an intrinsic part of the brain the same as the amygdala or cerebellum.” While _that guy_ balked at the sudden influx of knowledge courtesy of Spock, who continued to speak, at length, about dyslexia, Bones regarded the writing on the wall a second time.

They didn’t seem all that complicated to him. Hell, they were actually easier to break down than Standard was.

“Look at that,” Jim whispered delightedly in McCoy’s ear, eyes fixed on the lecturing Vulcan. “That’s my future boyfriend.” 

“I’m just saying that the constant form shifting of the letters makes it impossible to interpret! Not that I hate the disabled!” _that guy_ cried out with exasperation. He marched to stand by McCoy and look at the doctor expectantly, waiting for him to admit defeat.

Spock slowly strode over to stand next to their Captain. He stared the blonde down before opening his mouth. “Future boyfr-?”

“Form shifting?” Bones interrupted, giving Kirk time to silently mourn his own stupidity for forgetting Vulcan hearing as the CMO caught the attention of the other two men. “What are you talking about? It looks stationary.”

Kirk, jumping on the chance to distract from his slip up, “Commander Spock, you mentioned that dyslexia is the result of a different type of brain development. Is it possible that this entire species had dyslexia and developed a written language better suited for it?”

“It certainly is a distinct possibility. Of course, for this race the condition would not have been considered a disorder but rather the standard state of being. It is likely that there were some born in their population with brains structured like our own and that they were the ones considered _diseased_ during more primitive times.” With that, the Vulcan shot a long stare at _that guy_ who shifted uncomfortably.

“Well, looks like Bones’ dyslexia saved the goddamn day!” Kirk declared with a large grin, eyes determinedly avoiding Spock’s questioning gaze. Laughing a little too loudly, Jim speed walked away. Bones frowned at his human disaster of a best friend.

“You should probably go after him,” Bones said to Spock, tilting his head in the direction Kirk had fled. “He’s distracted enough that he’ll probably set off another trap and end up hanging upside from the ceiling.” Judging by the way Spock immediately set off after their Captain, he probably agreed with Bones.

McCoy silently glanced at _that guy_. “Dr. Kay, right? Congrats on your discovery of an entirely dyslexic alien society. This’ll do wonders for the lingering prejudices concerning learning disabilities in the federation.”

Dr. Kay’s face burned with shame.


End file.
